


and in the dark, i can hear your heartbeat

by lvllns



Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: F/M, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, book 3 demo spoilers, excessive swearing in languages the detective doesn't know, i think i got everything?? who knows man, little bit of dirty talk if you squint, oh thigh riding too can't forget that, this was SUPPOSED to be short and now here we are whatever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:07:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26380072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lvllns/pseuds/lvllns
Summary: There is a moment, however brief, where you think this is a terrible idea.Not because you don’t want to kiss Nate, that’s all you want to do these days, but you need to leave. You have work and not enough time to do what you’d like before you need to head out. This is an indulgence you don’t have time for.So, obviously, you reach for his arms, fingers clutching his biceps so you can drag him closer. He goes willingly, an amused smile pulling at his lips.And then you kiss him.
Relationships: Female Detective/Nathaniel "Nate" Sewell
Comments: 43
Kudos: 123





	and in the dark, i can hear your heartbeat

**Author's Note:**

> me: what if that scene in the hallway continued, someone should write that  
> me, nearly 6k words later: okay well i guess this is a thing now  
> i'll probably catch spelling/grammar errors after this is posted but yolo.

There is a moment, however brief, where you think this is a terrible idea.

Not because you don’t want to kiss Nate, that’s all you want to do these days, but you need to leave. You have work and not enough time to do what you’d like before you need to head out. This is an indulgence you don’t have time for.

So, obviously, you reach for his arms, fingers clutching his biceps so you can drag him closer. He goes willingly, an amused smile pulling at his lips.

And then you kiss him.

Nate melts against you immediately. Mouth opening up as you reach for his neck. Holding him close. Not close enough, never close enough. He stumbles back. Hands on your waist—(when did they get there?)—pull you with him and you crash against his chest as he bangs against the doorway. He slicks his tongue against yours the same second his hips roll into you.

The kiss breaks. You gasp. Moan. Press closer and rock against him. It’s a chase now, a race for friction, and the door rattles behind his back as he meets the next grind of your hips. Some little part of your brain is yelling at you about how the entirety of Unit Bravo absolutely knows what’s going on because you’re both doing nothing to stay quiet. You ignore it. Nate groans, deep from the bottom of his chest, and his mouth moves to your cheek. Trails down to your jaw where he settles as soon as he finds a spot that makes you whine.

He smirks against your skin.

Smug bastard.

Reaching up you pluck at the messy bun at the back of his skull. Wrestle with the hair tie before it finally comes free, sending a mess of brown tumbling down to brush against his shoulders. You thread your fingers through his hair and pull until you can kiss his mouth again. He tastes like tea, peppermint and citrus, something soothing and bright. It pops in your mouth like candy. You slip a hand under his shirt. A gentle touch. The pads of your fingers ghosting over his skin and oh, _oh_ , the sound he makes when he breaks from you…a choked off, broken gasp...

It’s going to be burned into your mind for the rest of your life.

Aimless, you let your hand wander. Slipping up towards his chest before pushing your thumb against the middle of his sternum. You press your face against his throat, grinning, as you drag your touch down the center of his body. Dipping into his belly button before finding the trail of hair that disappears beneath his jeans.

Nate is shaking. Breathing erratically. When you look up, his soft eyes are blown black with desire and want and he looks like he could swallow you whole. His head falls back when your thumb smooths over the skin just below the waistband of his pants. Thumps against the door so hard it shakes in its frame. You continue to touch him. His skin. His stomach. But your eyes focus on his neck until you can’t take it and you lick a stripe from base to jaw.

He groans. Loudly. You grin against his collarbone as you place a gentle kiss to it.

“I wish I didn’t have to go to work,” you mumble against his chest.

Nate chuckles, a little breathless. “Not as much as me.” He swallows. Eyes flicking to meet your gaze as his chest heaves. “I was...not expecting that.”

You smile, lopsided and wide enough to wrinkle the corners of your eyes. One of his hands lifts to smooth over your hair before gently cupping the back of your head. He dips down. Kisses you soft and slow. Something so tender your heart aches with it. Unfair that you have to leave this. Unfair that you be pulled away from his arms and his mouth and the warmth that radiates from every inch of him.

“I’ll be thinking of you all day,” he whispers right against your ear. “You should leave before I find myself unable to let you go.”

You do a quick calculation. A couple hours still hang between you and needing to be at the station. It’s not ideal but it could work. You groan and let your forehead drop to his chest. “Nate.” Your voice is muffled by the fabric of his shirt. “I want _you_. We have time.”

Nate chuckles. Moves his chin to rest atop your head as he says, “And I want you too.” There’s a pause, and then, “The problem is, if I get you into bed I don’t think we’ll be leaving it for the rest of the day.”

Oh, fuck this.

“I’m not going to work,” you say.

He blinks at you. “You—What?”

He starts to pull away and you grab his hips to hold him in place. “I’ll call in sick. It’s fine.” You step closer, force him to step back so he’s crowded against the door.

A full body shiver races down your spine. You take another step so you’re seamed together from chest to thighs. His gaze flits over your face. Darts from eyes to nose to mouth before he swallows hard and reaches up to cup your face in his hands. The tips of his fingers dance across your cheekbones, down to your jaw, until he’s pressing his thumb against your bottom lip.

You dart your tongue out to lick his thumb before cocking a brow.

Quicker than you expect, his hands curl around your ribs and he pivots the both of you. Crowds you until your back hits the door. It knocks a gasp out of you, and you grab at his shoulders to steady yourself. One well muscled thigh nudges between your legs. Nate dips down, kisses your cheek, and lifts his leg until he’s balancing on the ball of his foot.

“Shit.” Your head tilts back. The pressure is just enough to have you arching towards him, fingers winding through his hair.

He smiles against your throat. Holds his leg still as he splays one broad hand around your waist. A slight tug, a murmur of encouragement, and then he’s guiding you while you rock against him. Wet kisses dance up your neck and then his mouth finds yours again. His tongue sweeps across your bottom lip. You drop a hand to his stomach, fingers clutching at fabric, and he moans into your mouth. Moves his leg a little higher until the pressure and friction has stars beginning to dance behind your eyelids.

Vaguely you realize he’s speaking. Something low, rough, and in a language you don’t understand. You shudder. His grip shifts. Slides from your waist down until he’s grabbing your ass and rocking you harder against his thigh. You wrap an arm around his neck to pull yourself closer. Leave open-mouth kisses over every inch of skin you can reach.

Nate pulls back and rests his forehead against yours. “We should...your bedroom,” he’s breathless when he speaks. The words don’t match his actions as he shifts his thigh again.

You swallow and nod and you know you should. It makes sense. Slip into your room and continue this in thirty seconds when you’re hidden behind a solid wood door where nobody can round the corner and see you riding Nate’s thigh in the hallway. Your brain, unfortunately, refuses to cooperate, and instead you grind down and moan into the small space between your lips. His mouth finds your neck. Kisses and bites from just below your jaw to the base until he’s nosing your shirt to the side and attempting to burrow under the fabric so he can keep kissing your skin.

“Are you close?” The words are muffled against your collarbone.

You nod. “So close. Nate, please.”

He growls. Jostles his leg a little, just enough to change the angle and the pressure and he bites a spot below your clavicle.

Your body tenses up as you come undone in his arms, on his leg, in the middle of the hallway at the fucking warehouse. Doesn’t matter. All that matters right now is the press of teeth to your skin. His fingers digging into your lower back. You moan, low and long, hips rocking against him as you ride your orgasm out. He’s whispering again, things that sound vaguely like endearments but you can’t bring yourself to try to figure them out.

Gently, so gently, he lowers his thigh and catches you when you slump forward against him. Arms around his waist. Face tucked underneath his chin. You’re breathing quickly, chest rising and falling rapidly. And he’s no better off. You spread a hand over his side, fingers resting on his ribs, and you count the breaths.

A beat, a moment, and then he’s laughing. Body shaking, shoulders rounding as he leans forward to kiss the top of your head. “We...in the _hallway_.” He snorts, nose pressed against your temple.

You laugh. Shake your head and move until you can kiss him. “Come on,” you say against his mouth.

It takes a second to untangle from each other. Nate gets the door open and he steps inside after you, chest so close to your back you can feel the heat pouring off of him. He kicks the door shut and you roll your eyes.

“Eager much?” You look over your shoulder, mouth going dry at the sight of him.

Nate stares at you, eyes half-lidded and a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “My dear, you have no idea.”

“Show me.”

Two words. That’s all it takes for him to sweep you into his arms. Lift you like it’s nothing, like he does it every single day. You squeal, giggle, and wrap your legs around his waist. He peppers your throat with featherlight kisses as he walks to your bed where he sets you down carefully. Nate leans over you until you’re caged between his body and the mattress, his arms resting on either side of your head.

He smiles, earnest and soft. “Hello.”

“You’re such a dork,” you mumble as you grin back. “But hello to you too.”

Warm fingers slip under your shirt to rest against your hip. His hand splays over your skin, thumb moving back and forth in a slow, soothing motion. “You’re sure about this?”

You take his face in your hands and kiss the tip of his nose before you say, “Yes. I want this. I want you.”

He ducks his head, a small smile pulls at the corner of his mouth. Hair falls over his eyes, covers his face. You push your fingers into it until your hand rests on the back of his skull and his face is no longer hidden. One eyebrow lifts, inches up your forehead, and then he’s chuckling and leaning back down to kiss you once more and you feel like you’re floating. He’s thorough, methodical as he picks you apart with lips and tongue and teeth. What was rushed in the hallway is slow on the bed. You know he’s filing bits of information away. Which spot on your throat makes you arch up into him. The sliver of skin behind your left ear that makes you shudder, makes your hands convulsively clutch at his shirt. Pieces of you he tucks away into himself, pieces he will carry for as long as you let him.

(You think, vaguely, a little hazily, that “as long as you let him” is going to be a very long time indeed.)

Somehow he manages to pull you back to the moment with the warmth of his palm against your stomach. His fingers slip just beneath the waistband of your pants, a mirror of your earlier endeavors, and he grins unrepentantly against your mouth as you kiss him. Lazy and unhurried. It’s not like you really have anywhere to be since you won’t be going to work today.

Your hands tug at the hem of his sweater. “Off, please.”

“So polite,” he says around a burst of bright laughter.

He moves to sit on the bed next to you, thigh touching yours. A second later and he’s pulled the soft fabric over his head. Tossed it onto the floor. You groan because _of course_ he’s wearing a shirt underneath the sweater. It’s nice though. A tighter fit. Something that clings to his broad shoulders. Your eyes catch on his arms, the toned muscle he keeps hidden beneath layers. There’s something poetic, you think, about him baring himself to you like this. A ritualistic peeling away of the mask he dons each day. This is Nate. Soft sweaters and too much tea and smelling of ink, but with arms that could snap a spine and teeth that could rip a throat out.

He misses the humanity of things, he’s told you as much, but you don’t think you’ve ever met someone quite so human.

Without a word you reach up and cup his cheek. Brush your thumb over his nose until he scrunches his face up and laughs.

“Nate,” your voice is whisper soft in the quiet of your room.

He quirks a brow and tugs at the fabric of his shirt. “Sorry, did you want this off too?”

You shove his shoulder. He laughs, head tipping back to bare his throat to you, and then he’s yanking the shirt off. It vanishes somewhere on the floor. You don’t really care because for the first time, Nate is bare to you from the waist up and oh, he is _pretty_.

Dark skin over lean muscle. Hair scattered liberally over his chest and stomach, narrowing down to a thicker trail that disappears below his jeans. Not a scar in sight. You drag your eyes up and down a few times, letting your gaze catch on various parts of him—(pecs, stomach, arms, his arms, holy shit)—until you look up to find him watching you.

You swallow hard enough that your throat clicks. “You’re gorgeous.”

He blinks at you, mouth opening and closing a few times, and then he laughs, a little nervously, as he rubs the back of his neck. “I am glad you think so.”

You hum. Sit up and press a hand against his shoulder. Skin to skin. Nate falls back willingly, goes where you direct him without comment. He falls back, hair a halo around his head, and you swing a leg around so you can straddle his waist. Reflexively his hands come up to rest on your hips. He does nothing, just watches you curiously.

It’s novel to have him under you like this. You reach out and splay a hand over the center of his chest, over the rapid gallop of his heart. Your fingers wind through the hair on his body, it’s soft and thick in places. Slowly, as slow as you can take, you slide your hand down to his stomach. His breath catches in his throat, eyes flaring wide and dark. Your thumb circles over a random spot before you add your other hand to the mix. Up and down. Over muscles and bone, the beat of his heart and his ribs as they expand with each ragged breath he takes.

You map his body. Memorize it.

Now you take pieces of him and hide them inside of yourself and the look in his eyes tells you that he will let you carry them for as long as you want.

His own broad palms have slipped under your shirt to curl around your sides. Pulling your bottom lip between your teeth, you lean back and slip your shirt off. Nate makes a punched out sound from beneath you, something needy and desperate. The heat of his hands on your skin makes you curl forward just a little. His fingers tap up over your stomach until he reaches the fabric of your bra. He locks eyes with you as he sweeps his hands over the sensitive skin until you’re pushing into his touch. Chasing it like you need it to breathe.

One of his hands moves to your back, around to the clasp of your bra and you watch his throat as he swallows. “May I?” Quiet and soft, a question and a plea.

You nod. Something jerky and a little unsure because he’s going to see you for the first time and you try not to think about the last time you were this naked with someone.

(Was it Bobby? It was probably Bobby. How unfortunate.)

You blink and the cold air of the room washes over you as Nate eases the lacy garment off your body. He tosses it to the floor and you scoff.

“Careful with that, it was expensive!”

His eyes glitter with mirth. “My sincerest apologies,” he murmurs. A broad hand lifts and he cups a breast in his hand. You whine, leaning into the sensation of his fingers on you. “I’ll be sure to be more careful next time.”

Those two words catch in your mind but before you can process them entirely, he’s sitting up. Adjusting you carefully, slipping an arm around your waist to hold you steady in his lap.

“You’re beautiful.” His eyes burn a trail up your body from stomach to mouth. “Absolutely beautiful.”

You thread your fingers through his hair as his mouth finds your throat. Messy kisses and the bite of teeth all over you. The air shifts. Changes from slow to heated. Nate groans against your skin. You rock your hips, grind down and swear when you find him hard and wanting beneath you. His kisses go sloppy, slick, until he’s mouthing at the top of your breast, the one that isn’t still being touched by him. You press a kiss to his temple. Roll your hips again and again until he’s gasping wetly against your collarbone.

Swiftly, quickly and without a thought it seems, he flips you onto your back. Hovers over you, eyes blown black with desire.

“There is so much I want to do with you,” he breathes the words into the space between your mouths.

You crane your neck up to kiss him briefly and say, “We have time. We can explore later, right now I want you inside of me.”

His mouth drops open. He recovers quick enough, a shake of his head and then he’s muttering under his breath in a language you definitely don’t understand but you know he’s swearing. It’s more endearing than it should be, honestly.

“What am I going to do with you, dearheart?”

“Hopefully,” you say with a grin, “fuck me.”

Nate snorts and drops his head to your collarbone. “Left the door wide open there.”

You pat his shoulder, press a kiss to his temple. “Understandable given your current situation.”

Another soft chuckle and then he lifts his head. Slants his mouth over yours and kisses your breathless. He reaches for the button of your jeans, pops it open with his thumb, and hooks his index fingers in the waistband. The kisses float from your mouth to your neck. You lift your hips up, press your head back against a pillow, and wiggle to help him as he tugs the garment off your body, leaving you...completely naked.

You took the time to match your bra and underwear on purpose this morning, and he just went and pulled them off! He’s down at your feet, sitting on his heels as he drops your clothes onto the floor. There’s a part of you that wants to be annoyed, but then his eyes move up your body. Slow and deliberate. Every part of you heats up. Nate is looking at you like you’re a feast and he hasn’t eaten for months.

(You try not to think about how you are actually a whole meal for him. Special blood and all.)

“Look at you,” he whispers, awed and breathless. He reaches down. Curls his fingers around your ankle and slides a hand up your calf to your thigh. His other hand rests on your waist, thumb circling over your skin.

“Kiss me,” you say.

He does, immediately. Body moving to cover your own as he rests on his elbows. Your arms wind around his neck to keep him close. Not that you need to do that, you’re seamed together from chest to ankles, touching though he makes a point to keep his weight off of you. You bite his bottom lip and slip your tongue into his mouth when he gasps. Simple enough to lose yourself in the feel of him, the sweep of his tongue and the touch of his fingers as he cups the back of your neck.

But then he shifts, a leg moving to rest between yours as he pushes himself onto a knee and you remember that he’s still partially clothed and that just won’t do.

Your hands fumble with his jeans, the button and the zipper, and he does nothing but make himself a nuisance. Sloppy kisses to your neck and chest, a hand palming your breast until you’re pushing up into his touch while trying to shove his damn jeans down his damn long legs. You don’t even realize you’re swearing and muttering under your breath until his breath puffs against your sternum as he laughs.

Cold air rushes in as he moves away, and you shiver, arms crossing over your chest. Nate stands up. Wriggles out of his jeans with a ridiculous shimmy that is more enticing than it should be. He really is all long, lean lines of muscle. Your eyes follow the bend of his spine, the bumps of his vertebrae as he bends over.

And either he went commando this morning or he just slid his underwear off with his jeans and honestly, honestly, you don’t blame him—you want him so bad you think your skin might burst with it—but you’re going to have to ask him to slow down next time.

Next time. Your heart flutters a little, and then he turns back to you. Crawls over you to kneel between your legs, bare as the day he was born, and your heart rate spikes. That thick line of hair leads somewhere very, _very_ nice and your mouth goes dry immediately. A wicked grin pulls across his face, something salacious and dark and you want him to swallow you whole. To bury his hands in your chest and cradle your heart because it belongs to him anyway, he may as well take it where it rests.

Three words stick on the back of your tongue and you swallow them down. It’s a little soon for that. Probably. Your frame of reference isn’t great. Bobby said those words anytime something went to shit. A way to manipulate and coerce you into thinking things were fine and dandy. You know Nate isn’t Bobby—(if you had any doubt, having seen them both naked...you have no doubts now)—but that little piece of...of...whatever Bobby did clogs up your throat and traps those words in a box.

A quick shake of your head rights your thoughts and you cup his cheek. Press your thumb to his bottom lip. Pull his eyes from where they’ve been darting between various curves of your body like minnows in a pond. He looks up, holds your gaze and drops a hand between your legs.

His touch is soft, exploratory. The warm brown of his eyes flare with heat when he finds you slick. Nate swears, again, in another language you can’t understand.

(That’s five now. Maybe six?)

The tip of his index finger slips over you, featherlight and teasing. You growl. Flex your hips and arch into his touch but he pulls away just enough to keep you from the friction you try to seek out. A whine breaks from your throat. Bubbles up and shatters the quiet while you writhe around underneath him.

“Who knew you’d be such a tease,” you gasp the words out.

Nate hums. His touch drifts and he circles your clit before moving away. You narrow your eyes. He grins at you. Completely shameless. His touch gets firmer, more confident as he stops trying to memorize the places that have you rocking against his hand. You throw an arm over your eyes, a breathless chuckle leaving you as he bends down to pepper your stomach with kisses. The moment his teeth scrape against your hip bone, he eases a finger into your body.

Your arm falls away and you blink at the ceiling. “Oh.”

One single finger has no business feeling _this_ good but it does and maybe it’s because of the weight of everything else. Maybe it’s because it’s Nate doing this to you. Picking you clean like bleached bones in the desert.

He curls his finger, just a little, and your body jerks. “Ah,” he says, smug as a cat covered in cream. You open your mouth to say something incredibly witty but he repeats the motion and all that comes out is a broken moan. One dark eyebrow lifts, his mouth twitching as he tries, and fails, not to smirk.

Another finger, and he goes silent. He looks a little bit flabbergasted that this is happening still, dark eyes wide with wonder as he works his fingers. Your hips roll and rock, twitch and flex, as you chase the sensation. His thumb finds your clit again, a little too much until you reach down and place him where you want him.

And then, oh, he’s good.

Those long fingers are just as dexterous as you thought they’d be. His mouth is on your neck again, teeth and tongue and low murmurs of encouragement. You grab him by the chin and drag his mouth to yours so you can kiss him soundly. He melts into you, free hand lifting to card through your hair. You pull away first, chest heaving as you try to breathe, and you knock your forehead against his.

“I—Nate,” you moan his name as he twists his fingers just a little. Reaching down, you wrap your fingers around his wrist and he goes still immediately.

“Are you okay?” His hand slips from your hair to your cheek, thumb brushing against the corner of your mouth.

You nod. “I’m fine but I’m close, and I want you in me. Now.”

He groans, low and deep from the center of his chest. His fingers slip from you and then he’s leaning off the bed. Before you can say anything he’s sitting back on his heels, shuffling through his wallet until he pulls out a foil packet.

You quirk a brow. “Prepared much?”

Nate snorts as he chucks his wallet over his shoulder, and rips the condom open with his teeth and oh. Huh. That sure was something. You blink a little deliriously. “If I told you I’ve been carrying one with me since the carnival, would you believe me?”

Heat surges through you and pools between your thighs. “I think I would,” you say softly.

He grins at you, wicked and wild. What a picture he paints, kneeling on your bed like this. His hair is a mess from your fingers. Sweat shines over his body. His eyes have almost been swallowed by black.

It’s useless to try to stop yourself from touching him, so you don’t. He groans when your palm connects with his chest, fingers curling through the hair on his body. You lean forward and press your mouth to his throat. His hands are a little unsteady as he rolls the condom on, whether that’s from your teeth against his pulse or the fact that you’re about to fuck, you don’t know. In fact, you find it hard to care about anything except the jumping of his heart against your lips.

Hands find your shoulders, the heat of them scalding, and he nudges you down until you’re flat on your back again. He takes himself in hand, the fingers over his other hand sweeping long, soothing lines up and down your flank. You reach up to cup his face and smile wide enough your eyes crinkle. Tension melts from him, little pieces you hardly noticed he was carrying until they’ve scattered on the floor like wood blocks.

A deep breath and then he’s pressing against you. Pressing _into_ you. Slow, so slow and steady.

His hips rock, every thrust forward pushing him deeper. Nate bends over you, balancing on his elbows and looking down the length of your bodies, forehead touching your collarbone. “Shit,” he grits out, his hips rolling again. “Shit.”

“Nathaniel, did you just— _oh fuck_.”

Trying to be cheeky gets you a rougher movement, one that has his hips fitting tightly against your own as he finally seats himself within you. You scrabble for something to cling to. One hand latches onto a bicep, the muscle flexing beneath your touch, and the other tangles your fingers in his hair. He swallows hard, you watch his throat move, and then his head lifts and his eyes meet yours and he looks rather like someone clubbed him over the head with a brick.

“You feel—“ he shivers, mouth dropping to your chest, “—so good.”

Tentatively, you wiggle your hips. Nate hisses through his teeth, his grip going hard enough to bruise on your waist. You want to say something, anything, but he pulls his hips back before rolling forward and all the air gets punched out of your lungs. He sets a rhythm that has you arching up to meet him, hips flexing and obscene moans dripping off your tongue like honey.

He catches your lips. Kisses you, filthy and hot and open-mouthed. There’s a hand on your breast and one digging into your side and you’re pulling his hair until he’s gasping against your tongue. It’s slick. Sloppy. A little rushed and fevered. He hits a spot, somehow, that makes your vision go white and you clench around him.

The broken, choked, gasping moan that flies out of him is very quickly saved for future reference.

“Nate, Nate,” you whisper into the sweat-slick skin of his neck. “Touch me.”

His steady rhythm falters. A shudder that makes your body twitch beneath him. When he exhales, it’s heavy and uneven through his nose. He slips a hand between you. Drags his fingers over your slick skin until he finds your clit. Quick learner that he is, he knows exactly how you want to be touched. And when his rhythm evens out again, you lean up to kiss him desperately.

“Next time,” he chokes out against your mouth, “next time, I’m going to bury my face between your thighs until you come on my tongue first.”

Well.

That does it.

You come hard, eyes shut and back bowing off the bed. One hand pulls on his hair and that probably hurts but you really don’t care right now. All you currently care about is how he feels inside you, and how your skin feels stretched too tight because this is too good, it’s too good. You hear him grunt, his movements going erratic as he fucks you through your second orgasm of the day.

It’s maybe seven in the morning.

This is probably the best start to a day you’ve had in years.

Slumping against the bed, you wrap your arms loosely around his neck. You try to catch your breath as best you can, everything is fuzzy, your muscles going lax as your body melts into the sheets beneath you. Nate furrows his brows as he chases his own finish.

“Come, come for me Nate,” you press the words into his skin between sloppy kisses. When he looks up, mouth open, you catch a flash of fang. Something sharp and long and deadly, and that makes you shudder, eyes dilating and heart rate spiking and—

Nate moans _loud_ as he comes. Forehead tucked underneath your chin, shoulders taut and hips jerking as he twitches and spills. He’s mumbling in yet another language and you don’t even think he knows he’s doing it. You sling a leg over his waist, just to keep him close for a little while longer. Unsteady breaths brush across your clavicle. His grip eases off your waist and shit, there are probably bruises.

You shiver and Nate groans brokenly once more.

He pulls out, pulls away, and the bed shifts as he gets up. You close your eyes, focus on steadying your breathing and listening to him shuffle around your room, the bathroom door opening and closing.

“Nate, just, come here,” you whine.

Without looking, you wave your arm around in the air. He chuckles and catches your wrist, presses his mouth to your fingertips and crawls back into bed next to you. Your eyes flutter open, and what a sight he is. He’s still sweaty, hair sticking to his forehead and body. A wide grin splits his face, fangs still visible, and he rolls onto his back. Pulls you with him so you’re pressed along the curves of his body. It’s warm, and a little too sticky, but he’s comfortable so you tuck your head beneath his chin.

“We’re a mess, dearheart,” he mumbles, voice rumbling through his chest.

You reach up to pat his stomach, fingers winding through the hair there. “Five minutes, then we can shower.”

Soft fingers take hold of your chin, and he tilts your face up to look at him. Lips press against your forehead, soft and sweet, and then he asks, “Promise?”

“Promise,” you say.

It’s the easiest promise you’ve ever made.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on [tumblr](https://lvllns.tumblr.com) if y'all wanna come yell about stupid sexy vampires


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